


face of a dying god

by magma_maiden



Category: Naruto
Genre: HashiMada BigBang 2018, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 18:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magma_maiden/pseuds/magma_maiden
Summary: hashimada bigbang 2018 week nine entryprompt: hashirama's death





	face of a dying god

**Author's Note:**

> naruto (c) masashi kishimoto  
> no material profit gained from this work

“So, this is the face of a dying god.”

Even at death’s door Senju Hashirama never failed to recognize Uchiha Madara. Clad in a black robe, looming above him, blocking the sun.

It’s just logical that Madara was the first face he glimpsed past the door. Of all the deaths he caused, his was the worst.

Worst because they could've been _something else_ yet fate and ambition drove them to this point. An unchangeable future.

His regeneration still couldn’t work past the jutsu his enemy put on him. His breathing ragged, short, each becoming harder and harder to take…

Amidst the stench of his own blood, Hashirama smelled stale air clung onto Madara’s robe. His brain was busy with signals from his gaping wound that he nearly missed the fact that this man was too solid for a spirit.

The sword. The blade. Driven straight into his heart.

_So how come—_

A hand stretched from the dark robe, reaching for his jaw. Hashirama coughed more blood in his attempt to form words; any words—something, something to say—

“Ssh,” Madara hushed, oddly calming as he wiped the blood from the Shodaime’s lips. He briefly glanced to the side. “His ritual is close to finish. This shall pass.” He sat on the ground, leaning his cheek to his other hand. “How fitting. It takes a mad god’s devotee to take down the god of shinobi.”

“Ma—” Hashirama coughed harder.

Madara quickly sat atop him, holding his face with both hands. Their faces were only inches apart.

Madara was heavy. Madara was breathing.

He failed, did he? Then Konoha—Konoha would be—

Trembling hands raised, reaching for his face. The Uchiha remained as the hand met his cheek. Warm. Grey with ashes.

“I’m very much alive,” he whispered. “Worry not about your damned village; for now I just want to watch you living to the very last.”

Hashiramas regeneration tried to fix the damage again, but the devotee’s spell kept the destruction intact. The edges of Madara’s face turned blurry. He held Hashirama’s hand on his face, and with the gentleness of a lover, he whispered,

“Sweet dreams, Hashirama.”

The last thing the Shodaime Hokage beheld was the smiling face of the Uchiha prodigy letting him pass the death’s door.

Madara closed it between them.

  
  



End file.
